


rudenėja

by maigloeckchen



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 19th Century, APH Russia - Freeform, Fluff, Hetalia, LietRus, M/M, aph lithuania - Freeform, hetalia 2k21 babeyyy, hws lithuania, hws russia, rusliet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:33:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27204596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maigloeckchen/pseuds/maigloeckchen
Summary: Rudenėja - n. (Lithuanian): the way the world begins to feel like autumn.
Relationships: Lithuania/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17





	rudenėja

**Author's Note:**

> “We’re neither pure; nor wise; nor good; we do the best we know.” –Voltaire
> 
> this is a reupload of a fic i deleted a couple years ago

**_Saint Petersburg_ **

**_August 18—_ **

Ivan has never been overly fond of wine, but he knows that Tolys has always preferred it to spirits, so tonight it’s wine that leaves their cheeks flushed, wine and clumsy, drunken kisses. Tolys is laughing, sitting in Ivan’s lap; Ivan is sitting on the floor, nuzzling Tolys’s neck affectionately. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen Tolys in such a good mood, and he pulls him closer. Tolys gently traces the scar that circles Ivan’s neck in response, resting his head on his shoulder, almost instantly calm again. His touch is warm, and Ivan, if he doesn’t quite _like_ it, at least doesn’t mind it.

Tolys reminds Ivan of the sea, sometimes, and it frightens him a bit. It’s his _wildness_ , always lurking just beneath the surface; when he’s in a good mood, when he’s calm, everything is wonderful, but when he’s not….

Tolys is in a good mood tonight, though, and he sighs. Ivan kisses his forehead and chuckles. “You look tired,” he murmurs. Tolys is almost always tired.

The other frowns. “’M just a bit sleepy, ‘at’s all.” His voice is more slurred than Ivan expected—maybe it’s the tiredness and the wine working together, or maybe Tolys is just drunker than he thought—and he can’t help but laugh a bit at that.

“Ah, well, if _that’s_ all.”

“It is!”

“I believe you.”

“Hmph.” Tolys curls into Ivan, who holds him closer still, and the two stay like this for several minutes, until Tolys feels the need to stretch his legs. Ivan patiently lets him readjust—now he’s straddling Ivan’s lap, caressing his face—that does feel nice, and Ivan closes his eyes, letting Tolys run his fingers through his hair.

The white nights are over by now, though, even at this hour in August, some daylight lingers, Ivan can see it through a crack in the curtains. His room is warm, but not unbearable, even when he’s drunk and under Tolys. He’s not _that_ drunk though—the sheer amount of wine it would take for that is mildly terrifying to think about—and he’s not quite sure how long it’ll take for Tolys to become sober again. It doesn’t matter, anyway, because Tolys’s fingers running through his hair is a truly heavenly sensation; he remembers suddenly that Tolys positively _melts_ whenever _his_ hair is played with, and, leaving one hand on Tolys’s lower back to support him, runs his own fingers through Tolys’s hair.

Tolys laughs again; it is a bit silly that the two of them are both playing with each other’s hair, but Ivan doesn’t want Tolys to stop; he also wants Tolys to be happy. No—there’s more. He wants Tolys to be happy with _him_ —and, right now, in this moment, he _is_ , and for this moment, Ivan can pretend that they’re well and truly in love.

“What’s _that_ look for?” Tolys asks, clearly teasing.

Ivan smiles up at him. “Your hair is soft.”

“ _My_ hair is soft? Have you ever felt _yours_ ? Your hair is the _softest_ hair—the best hair— “ 

Ivan laughs. “You’re _really_ drunk, love.”

Tolys frowns at him. “I am _not_.”

“Oh, yes, you are.”

“I’m no— “

Ivan kisses him then, slowly, deeply, totally absorbed in Tolys. His fingers tighten in Tolys’s hair, and he feels Tolys doing the same; it’s quite possibly the most passionate kiss Ivan’s ever had, and Tolys’s weight is tempting—

 _No_ , he tells himself, _no, he’s too drunk for that_. He forces himself to pull away from the kiss, breathing heavily; it’s definitely not the wine that’s leaving his face hot now.

Tolys frowns at him again— _I wish he didn’t frown so much_ —and tries to kiss him, but Ivan is able to hold him back.

“No, love, you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m not,” Tolys whispers, lips as close to Ivan’s as the latter will allow. “I know what I’m doing.”

Ivan shakes his head, smiling; Tolys sighs and leans back, so Ivan lets him go—only to have him lean in quickly for another kiss, wrapping his arms around Ivan’s neck so he can’t easily be pushed away again. Using this to his advantage, Tolys, still kissing Ivan, again leans back—this time with enough force to pull Ivan on top of him as he lays on his back. 

Ivan manages to break away from the kiss; he has to hold back laughter as he says, “You cheated!”

Tolys only grins, and Ivan can’t hold the laughter back any more—but not for long, because Tolys is pulling him down for another kiss and Ivan loses himself again briefly. Tolys’s body is right _there_ , beneath him; Ivan can feel his warmth, his breathing; maybe even his heartbeat, but that might just be his imagination.

He can also taste the wine in Tolys’s breath, and he sits up, pulling away once again. Tolys stays where he is, frowning up at him as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re making it hard to say no.”

“Don’t say no, then.”

Ivan smiles but shakes his head. “We’d both regret it in the morning.”

“Hm. What’re we supposed to do now, then?”

Ivan frowns. It’s late, but he doesn’t feel especially tired—but Tolys should probably go to bed. He sighs; that means Tolys will have to leave. He moves so he he’s sitting by Tolys’s head and starts playing with his hair again.

“What’re you thinking about?” Tolys asks.

“Nothing,” Ivan murmurs, resting his head on his knees, which are drawn up close to his chest. “Just that I like spending time with you.”

Tolys awkwardly brushes his fingertips across Ivan’s cheek. “I like spending time with you, too.”

“Do you?”

“Of course. If I didn’t, would I be here now?”

Ivan opens his mouth to say something, but Tolys’s fingers find their way to his lips and he doesn’t say anything.

“You’re thinking I should go to bed.”

 _Maybe he’s sobering up after all._ “Eventually, yes,” he says, gently holding Tolys’s fingers in place.

Tolys gives him a look that says he knows that’s a lie before his expression softens again. “Can we go to bed together?”

Ivan starts; Tolys has never asked that before. “Er— “

“Please?”

He sighs. “People will talk.”

“The same people who already know about us?”

Ivan frowns at him. “There’s no need to flaunt it.”

“Flaunt what? We haven’t done anything tonight.”

Ivan shakes his head and lets go of Tolys’s hand; the latter sighs and sits up, leaning against Ivan’s side.

“ _Please_ , Van’ka?” he whispers.

Ivan freezes; Tolys has never called him that, or any sort of nickname. It’s always been “Russia” or “Ivan” or occasionally “Braginsky”—though not so much anymore, that was more before—

Tolys hugs him and he sighs. It would certainly be nice to spend the night with him….

“Fine,” he says, not at all unkindly, “but don’t forget that _you_ asked for it tomorrow!”

Tolys grins, and Ivan kisses his forehead before standing. His legs are a bit stiff, but he pulls Tolys up; he continues leaning on him and Ivan can’t help smiling a bit. _Still drunk_ , he thinks before scooping Tolys up and carrying him to his bed.

Once they’re both lying in bed, Tolys immediately curls into Ivan’s chest, and Ivan wraps his arms around Tolys. He seems so small and vulnerable; Ivan starts to doze off, to his surprise, but then he hears Tolys mumble something.

“What was that?” he asks softly; it occurs to him that Tolys is already asleep and talking in his dreams, but no, he pulls away from Ivan enough to make his voice clear.

“I said, ‘I love you,’” he says quietly before pressing himself into Ivan again.

Ivan has no response for several minutes. “I love you, too,” he whispers at last, kissing the top of Tolys’s head. There’s no response, and he realizes he must have fallen asleep. Ivan sighs, content. Soon, the Neva will freeze and the snow will come, and, with it, long, unending nights, but for now, in this moment—however brief—none of that matters. In this warm, quiet moment, he and Tolys are together.


End file.
